Egos Can Kill
by Somberdead
Summary: Jeff the Killer. When Jeff is out... hunting one night, he's met a fate that could possibly change his life or ruin it, and it all depends on if he can control that huge ego that always seems to get him in trouble. How can he survive in this world of torment with a weight keeping him down? Rated M for gore, violence and possible lemons.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I- Revenge is a Bitch

It all started on a cool August morning, it felt unusual honestly. The afternoon air was crisp and had a light breeze, just looking up at the blue sky you could tell it was summer. The perfect day you could even say. Neighbors were greeting neighbors and mowing green lawns. Birds were chirping and flowers were in bloom. The air smelt of honey, cut grass… and death.

Why you ask? Well the answer is simple, some of the town had just been chopped up in their sleep. Most people are still unaware that the Johnson's next door, who they thought were unusually quiet on this fine day, are laying in bed with their intestines spewed across the room. It makes me feel bright eyed and bushy tailed to know that someone will come upon my masterpiece and scream. They'll cry, and then they'll curse my name on the news, grinding their teeth as they hiss _"Jeff the Killer"._

Yes, that name, oh that name. It doesn't sound too terrifying. Just a simple name, but it's still my name, and I want you to know that name. Know it so when you wake in the night and tremble at the sight of my face, you'll know your killer. It's just as that as I had just finished butchering a small family this evening. I currently reside in their kitchen, eating a meal I had forced the wife to cook before be-heading her.

"What's wrong Sugar-Tits?" I grinned at the body-less head, her face still twisted with fear. "Don't like what you see?" I winked, shoving another bite of spaghetti into my mouth. My attention snapped forward at the heavy knocking at the front door. A muffled voice saying "This is the police," echoed. "Sorry, but I gotta dash Sweet Heart," I sat my dish in the sink and went out the back door. _'Where to next?'_

Night was falling quickly this evening but I wasn't complaining- it's easier travel. Hood up, hands in pockets, head down is how I walked down the somewhat barren streets. What reasonable person would go out with a killer on the loose? A small neighborhood was coming up, it started to look like the perfect street for a late-night raid. Most of the houses were your typical suburb cottages with hammocks and picket fences. Towards the end quiet frat-house sat next to a worn down apartment building that was only three stories. I headed that way, climbing up the fire escape to the second floor where a window was cracked. The apartment was quite tidy, which gave the small space a more open feeling. The air smelt like sweet rolls, which was explained with a lit candle on the coffee table.

Most of the lights were off and the only noise seemed to be the light hum of a shower faucet. Looking more closely at the apartment, I came to a conclusion that only one person lived here, and appeared to be male. The shower head suddenly silenced, giving me a cue to hide. I took my place in the shadows and waited. A girl emerged from the bathroom, wearing a large shirt and knee socks. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. She prominently flopped onto the futon in the master bedroom and dozed off. Grinning, I crawled over to her. I pressed my hand down on top of her mouth and before her eyes could flutter open, I pushed my knife into her gut.

A scream was muffled beneath my palm as her eyes stared back at me, pain and fear consuming them. Her shaky hands hesitated, not knowing where to go before deciding on grabbing the hilt of my blade. "Shh…" I whispered, "Go to sleep." She tugged at the blade, pulling it out as blood burst out of her mouth and leaked through my fingers. I laughed, I liked it when they fought, it spices up what felt like normalcy. Her left hand pressed down on her stomach, her eyes met mine. The girl suddenly bit down on my finger. I pulled it back out of reflex and in the split second the girl screamed out in a cry of survival, pain, and fear. She took hold of my knife and slashed it towards me, cutting my arm. I fell backwards, reaching forward to grab her but the little she-bitch launched to the side, tumbling off of the bed like a drunken fool and started half crawling, half running for the door. "You-" I sent out a growl, springing up and ignoring my own pain as I clenched the knife and sprinted towards her.

She threw out the door to her apartment, the handle clashed with the wall and caused a large bang to sound. She turned her head to the side, still holding her drenched stomach and vomited on the floor, quickly glancing up to see my advancement and panicking. She wiped the bile from her lips and ran down the hall. I caught up quickly, grabbing her by the hair and slamming her onto the ragged carpet. "You shouldn't have done that," I snarled, snatching her throat with my large hand. Tears were wielding up in her eyes, her lips mouthing something but no sound came out. I hoped she was praying to her non-existent god. I raised my dominate hand, getting ready to impale her once more before the radiant sound of sirens echoed the building. Footsteps sounded up the stairs to my right, I turned back to the girl, "You don't get out that easy _whore_ , I'll be back for you, I can promise you that." I released her neck and started for the window on the opposite side of the hall, this was going to be a close one…

I jumped out the window and landed in the dumpster, tumbling out of it and sprinting away from the scene. I can't believe someone actually survived me. Either I was getting rusty or I'm not as good as I thought I was. Either way, the only thing on my mind right now is the burning pain in my arm. She will surely pay for this, and my justice is always a gruesome one.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II- Wilderness

Everything was foggy, a total blur shadowed her eyes as hot tears rolled down her cheeks and blood bubbled from her pale lips. A bright hue of lights saturated her container. Red flickered from side to side, passing quickly and fading away as her vision slowly blackened. She thought to herself, as her long lashes softly fell and tickled her face, maybe if she just closed her eyes she could reopen them and be alright. _Oh god how it's bright._ She could feel hands grasping her but paid no attention to it.

 _Is this how it ends? I don't want to die like this, not here, not now._

Morgan Rodjers, twenty years old, she was a lamb compared to most. When people thought about the young girl, they would speak of good things like how she always went to church and loved children. She wasn't the most popular growing up but the girl had a talent for getting what she wanted and out of virtually anyone. No one would figure the beautiful young girl would die like this, not so traumatically, not so gruesomely. Her mother always pictured her dying on a hospital bed in her late eighties or nineties, surrounded by roses and her children, falling into a deep slumber peacefully.

Just not like this.

Her mother never saw it ending this way. Morgan's mother loomed over her child's body. Limp, nearly lifeless as needles and monitors were strapped and stabbed into her little girl. Dear god how the room stunk too. Blood was everywhere; the crimson liquid was covering practically every surface. Tears streamed down her mother's face as she continued to watch Morgan slowly die on the operation table. Her chest was ripped open as doctors probed and sewed her torn organs. Morgan's pale blue eyes seemed hallow as she stared out into the empty space; her lips cracked and slightly parted, small wheezes escaping as she flinched.

The heart monitor suddenly rang, a hissing, loud beep rang throughout the room. The older woman screamed trying to push through a dozen nurses to reach her baby. She was forced out of the room and seated firmly in the waiting room. Hours went by, feeling like days before a doctor came out. The strong frown that was carved into the elderly man's face told her all she needed to know, but the tired mother wouldn't accept it. She screamed out, shouting to see her child. The doctor held her forearm, attempting to calm her.

His words were barely heard as she burst into Morgan's room. _She's alive, but it doesn't look good._ Morgan laid on the white cotton sheets, wrapped tightly with bandages and strung with machines. She was asleep, looking more fragile than ever, like a flower in a rain storm. Her skin as pale as the bed she rested on, her brown hair was in disgusting coils filled with sweat that clung to her face in large, knotted clumps.

Behind those dead eyes she dreamt, but not gracefully. She was screaming on the inside, staring up at the face that will now torment her for the rest of her life. His wild eyes stared back down at her, blood shot and crazed with a smirk that stretched from ear to ear, tearing open even wider and dripping small pellets of rose water onto her trembling face.

Morgan's eyes snapped open, her hand felt heavy as she strained to shield her eyes from the blinding light of the hospital room. Her mother grasped her opposite hand, tears streaming down her freckled face. She observed the rest of her company. At the foot of the bed was an elderly man in a white jacket, clearly her doctor and to her right was two police officers.

The younger one cleared his throat, looking anxious as he spoke up, "Morgan Rodjers? There was an accident, do you remember what happened?"

There was a pause, her eyes wandered around the room. She coughed violently, motioning for someone to bring her a glass of water. The cup was carefully pressed against her lips, relief washed over her as the cool liquid burned her lungs. The officer repeated the question, quickly silencing as her mother shot him a cruel glare. Morgan nodded, placing the cup of water on the stand to her side.

The other officer took out a notepad. "Could you tell us who did this to you? Did you see their face, or anything that might help us catch them?"

Her eyes set back, anger filling the pale blue until they almost looked black. "His name," she almost choked again as she thought about that night, hands shaking as fear and pain were overcome with fury. "His name… is Jeff the Killer."

Morgan knew at that instant, she was to be hunted by a man, no, a creature that plagued the news. Afraid? Of course she was, terrified even. But more than anything, she wanted revenge. Because of course, revenge is a bitch.

" _Can we live without death? Can we love without hate? Can we want without need? (I've fallen once again) Do we ever live our lives enough to appreciate that we can never truly grasp one without the other? That a concept has no meaning without an opposing force? If hate is what's inside us, if hate is what defines us, then we will use our hate to drive us. (We are the damned) Let death not deprive us. Do we want this, or do we need this? You can always rinse the surface but the stain will remain."_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III- Nightshade

It had been two weeks since Morgan had been discharged from the hospital, and there was no sign of the approaching killer. She was starting to get paranoid, yet she was relieved. The still-injured girl was scared to return to her apartment, making up any excuse to crash on friends' couches. The police would come in to re-ask the same stupid questions and the same with the rest of her family; all of them over reacting at every little thing.

Her gut still hurt, literally and metaphorically. Morgan was still in pain from the wound her nightmare had given her, and her instincts would not let go of the fact that she was probably being watched.

What was she to do?

Her brother Daniel would fetch things for her from her small apartment, while she would coward in her car; keeping the doors locked and the windows rolled up. She felt alone at the same time though. The incident hit her like a train and reality was not a kind one. Morgan was twenty years old and single. She had only a couple of close friends and a boring day job. She realized that she just had the closest brush to death that you could have, and she wanted to change things. She wanted to be happy.

It had been nearly a month since she was almost gutted like a fish. The police acted like they were concerned but said the killer most likely wouldn't come back for her. Morgan couldn't help but feel slightly relieved to hear that, yet she knew not to be naïve. It was Sunday morning; Daniel was running her over to her apartment to get a sun dress for church. He held her arm as she ascended the flight of stairs. It would be the first time she would be in that place since…

Morgan closed her eyes, just thinking about it made her heart throb. Turning the key in that busted wood door took almost all of her courage. Letting out a deep breath, she pushed through, squinting at the sight of how messy it was. She reminded herself to clean up when she had the chance; it might take her mind off of a few things. Daniel immediately flopped down on her couch, turning on the game while she went to go get changed.

Her eyes landed on the open window that sat adjacent to her bed. She slowly closed it, her fingers shaking as she locked it. She had hardly noticed the few thin tears that had escaped her eyes. Morgan wiped them off, looking away from the window and reminding herself that if she didn't hurry, she would be late for the sermon. She smiled as she found a baby blue dress. Slipping on the cotton gown, she pulled her chocolate hair up into a neat bun and left.

Morgan breathed in the refreshing clean air of the church, loving the open room's bright aura and painted windows. Bells chimed sweetly as people pushed forward to get into their pews, everyone but the smaller kids wanting to be towards the front. The sermon went a little faster than usual, it was after all July and everyone was anxious to be out of the heat.

Morgan stayed after like usual, helping with cleaning up and greeting anyone who would walk by. The last few couples and families were almost gone, and she was exhausted. She sat down on a chair to try to catch her breath, digging through her purse for some of the pain killers her doctor prescribed. Her eyes wandered for a moment, trying to locate the nearest drinking fountain. She was quickly distracted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Morgan glanced up at the figure next to her. A water bottle was placed in her hands. She smiled at the man, "Thanks." He nodded, shifting awkwardly. Morgan gave him another look, almost gasping. "You're the pastor's son aren't you?"

The young man nodded, giving a half grin. He looked around twenty-four, his hair a smoky red that was pulled back. His eyes twinkled slightly, a hazel ringed with grey. The man had a strong jaw line, a soft shadow of a beard was neatly trimmed covered it. He stuffed his hands in his suit pockets, the black sports jacket was paired with a plain grey tie, but it looked nice with his eyes.

Meeting him came as quite a surprise to Morgan, actually. The pastor talked fondly of his son all the time to Morgan, always wanting to set them up on dates but his son was always busy. Meeting him now, she wondered how he could possibly be single! For god's sake he looked like Orlando Bloom's cousin.

He offered her his hand, "I'm Edmond."

She smiled brightly, gladly accepting his hand, "Morgan."

He looked shy to be honest, Edmond shifted again before clearing his throat, "My father has talked an awful lot about you."

Morgan's cheeks heated up instantly, "Oh," she managed out a squeak.

Edmond ran his hand through his hair, "You… want to get some coffee? That is if you're not busy or anything."

She shook her head, leaping up in the chair as she smoothed her skirt. "Not at all, I would love too." _Thank god,_ she thought to herself, excited that things seemed to be going her way.

He offered her his arm, looping it through hers as they left the church. They soon found a park bench after ordering coffee and sat down. The two must have sat there for an hour talking.

"So where do you work, Edmond?"

He smiled, sipping on the small paper mug. "I own a small book store, it's nothing to great."

She was in awe, "Seriously? I love to read." He glanced at her, curiosity seeming to flood his eyes. "What's the store look like?"

He shrugged a little, now looking embarrassed, "It's not that big. The inside is lined with, well, books. I have a small coffee bar in the back with some booths and a small fire place."

Morgan looked down at her coffee, watching the steam flow off the top and the brown liquid swirl together. "It sounds nice," she bit her lip.

He pulled a loose stand of hair from her eyes, "I'd love for you to come by some time." Their eyes met, a blush was slowly forming on her cheeks. "Sadly I must be going," Edmond sighed, rising from the old park bench.

Morgan gave a half smile, feeling disappointed, "Here," she muttered, digging through her bag for a slip of paper then jolting down her number. He took the piece gladly, leaning down and kissing her hand before leaving.

The girl couldn't hold in the nervous giggle she was fuming once he was out of sight. _He was so sweet._

And that's how the next couple Sunday's would follow… after the noon service, the two would grab lunch or drink coffee at his book store, talking for the rest of the day or until one of them had to actually work. Morgan had finally found something to look forward too. She was happy.

But not happy enough to go back to that apartment.

Of course she thought about it, Morgan had even decided to go back the week before! But then it happened, a sick reminder. A girl was killed just down the street from her apartment, the news said it was another attack from- she couldn't even muster his name.

She sat in her car once again, waiting for her brother to return with something from the apartment. She was starting to get anxious; sitting alone in her little beetle was killing her. The sun was setting quickly, the streets were already vacant and Daniel had been gone for almost twenty minutes. Letting out a deep breath, she jumped as a bang came from the side of the car. She closed her eyes and growled at Daniel when she realized it was only him knocking to remind her that the car was in fact locked.

He quickly sat down, smiling at her. "Sorry I took so long. By the way, someone had left flowers at your door. I put them in some water."

She blushed, _were they from Edmond?_ "Was there a note?"

Daniel nodded, "I didn't read it though, here," he handed her a small envelope.

She opened it; her heart slowly sank as she read the letter inside.

 _You didn't forget me did you? Can't wait till I get my hands on you._

Morgan nearly screamed, covering her mouth quickly as she took the rest of the envelope's content out. The first picture was of a young girl with her throat slit open. The next was of another girl, throat slit and- oh dear god. Morgan felt tears start to stream down her face. The second girl's skirt was lifted up enough to show the several different knives that had been shoved inside of her womb. And each picture after that was worse.

She was hysterical at that point, shaking violently as her brother dialed the police. Morgan knew better, she told herself a million times not to be so naïve as to think he wouldn't come after her. She knew better! But what kind of monster….

She glanced at the last two. The next girl had the same thing- throat slit, knives and over objects shoved inside of her and even sodomized, but the girl's limbs were clearly all broken and strained. Her teeth were busted out and her nails had been torn off. Morgan didn't want to look at the last one, she didn't want to know what could be possibly worse than this, but something tugged at her to look at it. She immediately regretted it.

It was a picture of her parent's house. The house in which she was staying.

She couldn't handle it anymore, her stomach was in knots. Morgan opened the car door and leaned out, vomiting onto the pavement. _How did he find their house?_

A police car rolled up behind her small blue beetle, the officer racing to the car door and helping her out. His partner raced upstairs to her apartment to look around while he asked Daniel questions, wrapping Morgan in a blanket and setting her in the back of the police car.

The officer took the envelope from Morgan as his partner came back. He said he found nothing in the apartment but brought the flowers with him. She stared at them through the windshield. She was tired; her eyes were swollen and puffy. Fatigue had set in quickly but she continued to stare at the flowers.

Those flowers were from her future killer. She gave a weak smile to herself at the thought. It was hilarious really…

She continued to stare, and the more Morgan stared the more beautiful they became. The red flickering lights of the police car strung over their pale purple color made them just so, enchanting. She chuckled to herself once more, _beautiful but toxic._ _Nightshade._

" _I spoke to god today, and she said she's ashamed. What have become? What have I done? I spoke to the devil today, and he swears he's not to blame. And I understood, because I feel the same."_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV- Comatose

Was she just destined to be petrified for the rest of her life? Morgan had no idea. Just the thought of knowing that the killer knew where she was staying, he _knew_ where her family was. She had everything to lose. Morgan was anxious; time was moving by so strangely for her. Terrified, angry with herself even. Morgan wanted nothing more than to see her attacker's head on a platter, but she was scared at the thought of seeing him again. Oh, how she wanted revenge, but how could she get her sweet justice if she freezes up just from hearing his name.

Morgan's mother pushed her time and time again to see a therapist, but she hated the idea of it. Sitting in a room and talking about that monster and reliving the advent sounded excruciating. But, nonetheless, Morgan scheduled an appointment to accommodate her mother's needs.

It felt like she sat in the waiting room for hours, and of course the whole place reeked of band aids and cheap lemon scented cleaner. An assistant finally called her back, dragging her down several hallways into a small room that looked like a cliché psychiatrist office from the movies. Old book shelves and a mahogany desk decorated the centerfold, the curtains looked velvet and were a scarlet. One of those ridiculous half couches sat in the middle of two recliners, and a glass bottle of what looked like scotch was resting to its side.

Her eyes met with an elderly man with thin circular bifocals, he waved his hand for her to come in. Morgan sat down, biting her lip as the man poured himself a small glass of the liquid. He stared at her as he took a swig, licking his lips afterwards.

"Morgan Rodjers I presume?" She merely nodded, smoothening the skirt she wore. "I'm Doctor Cliff Anderson."

"I've never known a doctor who drank on the job," she stated, still eyeballing the glass that rested in his hand.

"Well," he cleared his throat, setting down his drink, "my methods are a little obscure."

He had a deep and gravelly voice that was hoarse yet relaxing. The older man reminded her a lot of her great uncle; a man who was assertive and didn't have a care in the world. He pulled a clipboard out of what seemed like thin air, tapping a pen against it while his eyes studied her.

"I suppose you don't want to be here?"

She snorted, "Well, you aren't the cheapest."

He gave a sly grin, "Why don't you tell me why you're here."

"I was attacked by-"

He cut her off short with a chuckle, "No, no, Miss Morgan why are you really here."

She glared at him, "I am here because my mother wants me to be."

"You don't actually want to talk to me about your problems; you just want her off your back."

"You're a smart man, Mister Cliff."

"Why don't we talk about the incident a little anyways?" Morgan stared at him until he finally continued, "So you were attacked by that serial killer on the news, is that correct?" He checked his clip board, making small marks here and there.

"Yes, about five months ago."

"Are you still living in your apartment where the incident took place?"

"I'm still paying for the rent and all, but I've been staying with my parents."

"Do you not feel safe there?"

"Would you?" He nodded in agreement, making a few more notes. "I go there sometimes to get clothes or other things and," Morgan swallowed that large lump that found its way into her throat, "I can only think of that night. The door is split, there's blood stained into my bed and the carpets. I've tried to scrub it out, believe me I really have, but it just won't come out. I've thought about putting in an alarm system, but I decided against it."

"It says here on the police report that you received flowers from him?"

Morgan nodded, "Nightshade."

"Nightshade, hmm? Beautiful but extremely poisonous. Do you know why he left those?"

Morgan shrugged, "How am I supposed to know."

"Has anything happened since he left the flowers and pictures two weeks ago?"

"No, it worries me though. One of the pictures was of my parents' house. I'm worried that he might hurt them too and I would never be able to live with myself if that happened."

"How do you feel?"

"What do you mean 'how do I feel'? I'm terrified. I'm angry, I'm depressed, I'm everything but happy…"

And that reality stung to Morgan, and suddenly an even more terrifying thought hit her- what good was it to her that she even survived that night, if she would live in fear and agony for the rest of her life? Morgan needed answers, and she sure as hell wasn't going to get them in a shrink's crammed office.

The first thing she did once she got home was take a bath. Just throwing off her clothes and slipping into a hot tub almost immediately made her forget all of her troubles. It was a Friday night, she thought about going out, like any reasonable person would do. Morgan was home alone; her parents always went out on Fridays to a karaoke bar with a few of their friends.

She could feel that the night was going to be a long one already, something just ached in her bones and she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep watching a cheesy movie on Netflix. Once the tub was drained and Morgan had put on a comfortable pair of shorts she flopped onto her bed.

Her soft blue eyes were just fluttering shut when she was awakened at the violent sound of someone knocking on the front door. Morgan grumbled to herself frustrated. She nearly threw open the door and glared at the person in front of her. Who on earth would be knocking at her door so later anyways?

Morgan let out a deep sigh, "What do you want Daniel?"

He was hunched over, catching his breath, "It's mum and dad." Just seeing the look on his face gave her all the explanation she needed. That monster had gotten to her parents. Tears had welded up in her eyes, spilling out onto her red cheeks. Did she even want to know what happened?

They raced down to the hospital, and devastation was soon found. Morgan stared at their mutilated bodies in the morgue. Their eyes were gouged out, tongues split in half. Her mother's stomach had been opened, most of her entrails seemed to be missing and the same with her fathers.

Morgan choked, covering her mouth as she sobbed against her brother's shoulder. The doctor continued to give her the report as the police covered their bodies. What else could possibly go wrong in her life? What else could she possibly have to lose? She was basically to her breaking point, at least, that's what she thought.

She had no idea what monstrosities were to come.

" _The wall that built to keep you out is starting to rust, because everything around me just reminds me of us. I'm an addict for dramatic, black hair and pale skin. Yet I'm still collecting bones, but that's why closets are for skeletons."_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V- Parties Aren't Only for the Living

Morgan dreaded the thought of climbing out of bed Sunday morning. She needed motivation; nothing sounded better than just sleeping the day away. Something was pulling at her, weighing her body down in that bed like an anchor. Would she even feel up to seeing Edmond today? She let out a long sigh; there was one way to find out.

The sermon at church went by like a blur. The lights hanging in Edmond's book store seemed brighter, the soft music that played sounded louder, Morgan just felt miserable. Edmond seemed to have noticed, taking a second to think before clearing his throat. "Morgan are you alright?"

"Well my parents did just die," her voice was flat.

He frowned, "Why don't we go out and get something to drink; try to get your mind off of it?"

She swayed her hand, "Nah, I don't drink and it's a Sunday."

He poked at her, giving her a cheesy smile, "Then go with me and _I'll_ drink enough for the two of us. You can eat the olives."

She tried her hardest to smile and agreed, jumping into his SUV and going with him to the nearest pub. It seemed like after Edmond had his first margarita one found its way into her hand. Time seemed to fly by once again and before she knew it, Morgan had already had three drinks and was seriously feeling it. Without even realizing it, she was climbing the stairs to Edmonds apartment, his hand in her's.

He pushed her gently down onto his bed, throwing off his tie and sports jacket. His lips soon found her own, a hungry passion finding its way between them. Hours went by as she found herself waking up next to him; naked, covered in sweat and tangled in silky sheets. She glanced at the hand that laid across her chest. Morgan really couldn't believe she had slept with Edmond last night. It wasn't like her; she was always aiming for the "save it for marriage" bit.

Morgan slipped out of the flat before Edmond ever woke up, it wasn't even three in the morning but she didn't want to spend the night there. She wanted to go home. The second she arrived at her parents' house she crashed on the sofa, not even bothering with taking off her shoes.

In the morning, she soon found herself collapsing again, tears spilling down her eyes.

 _Where will this monster stop?_

Her eyes were fixated with the sight before her. Human intestines were hung across the banners. She had no idea how she couldn't smell the rotting flesh last night, but she certainly could now. Were those from her parents?

Her eyes followed the blood trail that streaked down the hall, leading to the bathroom. Slowly pushing open the door, she screamed at the sight. Her brother Daniel…

He was torn in half. His upper torso hung in the shower like a slab of meat. His entrails dropped down like string along with dislocated arms and an unhinged, broken jaw. Most of his teeth were missing and floated in the blood filled bath, looking like grains of rice. His right eye hung out of the socket, dangling against his cheek. Daniel's lower half sat merely in the bath with the rest of his bits and pieces and the worst detail of it all was the small note that was stabbed into his chest reading:

" _Parties aren't only for the living."_

With brightly colored tinsel and confetti sprinkled the room. How could this have happened? How could someone do this to a person? Morgan literally could not comprehend how a person could be so demented. Daniel was only nineteen for Christ's sake! He had his whole life ahead of him and it was ripped right from him.

Where was she to go? Morgan clearly couldn't stay here; there was nowhere to run too. She felt abandoned and afraid, and at this point it seems her fate is sealed. So why wouldn't this beast just end her suffering? What had she done to ever deserve something this agonizing? How could she even begin to fathom a response to everything that is happening to her?

….

Morgan never thought she'd see the day she'd have to walk back into that place. Edmond stood behind her as she cringed, opening the door to her apartment. She ran her hand delicately along the crack, biting her lip as the memories flooded towards her.

"You didn't have to come here with me," she said, looking away from Edmond.

He frowned, pushing his way into her apartment, "Don't talk nonsense, you don't need to be in this place anymore. It's bringing you nothing but pain." He had helped her made the decision the week before. Morgan was staying at his place every night anyways, Edmond just offered to help her move in for good. They both felt she would be safer that way.

As she moved towards the back of the house, she couldn't help but feel something was off. Edmond was digging through the fridge, clearing it out and throwing away everything that was spoiled. She glanced back at him, just staring for a moment to make sure he was actually there, not just a figment of her imagination. After getting her fill, she continued into her bedroom and packed the last couple things she had left.

Never seeing this apartment again would be justice enough for the time being.

As she found herself staring at the bedroom window once more, she couldn't help but wonder, out of all the other apartments and houses on that street, why did the killer choose hers? Was it because she left the window open? She did live on the third floor… Was it because the lights were all off, making it look like she was asleep or not home? But most of all, why did that man, or creature or whatever the hell he was, have the need to kill in the first place?

Morgan lifted up her shirt, staring down at the jagged, purple scar that stared angrily back at her. Her finger tips traced it delicately, taking the time to feel every curve and bump that now made her. This scar, it wasn't just a reminder of the night she was attacked. It was a reminder that that bastard was still out there, hunting her like a dog, murdering everyone she cares about and playing with her mind like a Rubik Cube. It was a reminder that she will never have a future as long as he still chased her. It was a reminder that she is no longer a person, no longer _human_ ; she was nothing but a grenade, waiting to explode.

She only wished that she knew how much time she had left.

That's when she noticed it. She noticed the reflection in the window that she now hated. It stared back her, eyes wild. Morgan whipped around, her blue eyes nearly popping out of her head as she stared into the face of her tormentor.

His dilated black pupils weren't even a half inch away from her own. His demonic grin grew with every rising second as his hand slowly raised. She continued to stare back, her lips quivering as she froze with fear, watching him place his index finger against his lips. Why couldn't she move? She was paralyzed and her nightmare was right in front of her. She needed to do something, anything! Scream for help, run away, punch him and fight for your life it didn't matter she just need to do something other than stand there!

But she couldn't, she was like ice as she watched him leave out that same window, looking back at her before closing the window behind him as if her was never even there. That's when she realized, she didn't have to wait for him to find her and put an end to her now miserable life, she was already dead.

" _I secretly crave, crave that scent again. Still feel it pressing down on me. Now with the onset, my flesh is weakening. I steel nerves for temptations at hand again."_


End file.
